


After

by prepare4trouble



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Coping, Friendship, Gen, Post-Episode: s02e19-20 Twilight of the Apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, we used to train under blindfold,” he says suddenly, stuck by a memory that has been toying with him since there return from Malachor.  “At the temple, when I was a kid.  There was one particular master who insisted on it pretty regularly, said that we needed to learn not to rely entirely our eyes, that they can deceive you.” - A brief conversation, post Twilight of the Apprentice</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this fandom, and I've fallen for it hard after binge watching the first two seasons over the past couple of days. I know there are probably a lot of post season 2 fics out there, I've read one or two myself, but I couldn't stop myself, I had to write something! It's pretty short, and I don't know whether this will be a one-shot or whether I might write more, it depends what you guys think, and if I have any more ideas. :-)

Kanan takes a deep breath, allowing it to fill his lungs completely, until it is almost painful to hold, and then slowly, through pursed lips, he releases it back into the air.

The metal floor of the ship is hard underneath him, the filtered air tastes bland and lifeless. The Engines throb gently, and Kanan can’t help but feel relief to be in space again after his short recuperation. Not that he’s back to full form yet; far from it. He’s under no illusion that he’s here to do anything more than ease his restlessness and perhaps make a useful suggestion or two. It’s an easy mission, very little chance of anything going wrong. Not that it’s ever a good idea to get too complacent.

He draws in another deep breath and concentrates on the Force surrounding him. He listens to the story that it tells him, feels the vibrations that speak of the activity all around him. Not far away, Sabine is painting, he is aware of her concentration, the almost mediative state she works herself into as the brush dances on whatever her chosen canvas might be. He will never see the finished piece.

At that thought, he blocks her out and tries to concentrate on the physical objects around him, on the way the Force moves around and through them, trying to glean as much information about them as he can. It isn’t much. He supposes that with time it will get better, or perhaps that he will learn not to mind so much. The frustrating thing is that he doesn’t know how much information he is supposed to be able to glean; whether this is as good as it is ever going to get, or whether there might be a whole universe of information out there waiting for him to learn how to access it.

“Hey.”

He twitches in surprise, hand reaching automatically to his lightsaber as he turns his head in the direction of the voice, instinctively trying to look at the source of the sound. Hera. He drops his hand back into his lap and attempts to cover his surprise with a smile. Under normal circumstances, he knows that it wouldn't fool her, but the bandage still covering his eyes makes for an effective mask and he thinks he might just get away with it.

“Hey,” he repeats in greeting. He stretches and begins to get to his feet. She stops him with a hand on his shoulder and he hears her drop to the ground next to him.

They sit in silence for a few moments, neither of them speaking or moving. Finally, Hera shifts a little. “How’re you doing?” she asks.

Kanan frowns. For a moment he’s tempted to ask her what she means, to claim ignorance and pretend like nothing has changed, but he can’t do that. Everything has changed, and not just for himself. He shakes his head and shrugs, trying to find the right words, the ones that will accurately express the situation, but reassure her at the same time, convince her that everything is - or will be - okay. They don’t come. He sighs, and as much as he wishes that he could see her, in that moment he is glad not to be subjected to the look he is certain she is giving him.

“Fine,” he settles for in the end. “You?”

She exhales loudly through her nose, some strange hybrid of a sigh and a laugh. “Same,” she tells him. “I’m worried about Ezra though. He’s been hidden away for days, it’s like he’s avoiding us. Have you seen…” She breaks off suddenly, realizing her choice of words, too late to change them. She swallows. “I mean, have you…”

Her hesitation causes something to twist inside him. His inability to see her suddenly feels like a barrier between them, something artificial that they are building together. It is time to tear it down, now, before it is allowed to grow any taller. “You’re allowed to say ‘see’, Hera,” he tells her, “Or look, or watch, or whatever else. You don’t need to censor yourself around me.”

“I…” she stops again. She had been about to deny it, he is certain of that. Instead she places an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.”

“But to answer your question, no, I haven’t seen him. Or heard from him. Not since yesterday morning.” He had been too caught up in his own problems; his blindness, the loss of Ahsoka. He had been neglectful of his Padawan when he likely needed him the most. “I’ll talk to him,” he says.

For a moment, Hera doesn’t respond. He is just about to say something else when she laughs harshly. “I nodded,” she tells him. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

Kanan grins. “I know,” he lies. “The Force, remember?”

He can hear Hera’s smile in her voice as she answers. “Right.”

“You know, we used to train under blindfold,” he says suddenly, stuck by a memory that has been toying with him since there return from Malachor. “At the temple, when I was a kid. There was one particular master who insisted on it pretty regularly, said that we needed to learn not to rely entirely our eyes, that they can deceive you.”

He can hear Hera breathing quietly next to him.

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t my favorite class,” he tells her. “In fact I used to dread it, I’m still half convinced he used it to punish the students he thought stepped out of line.”

“But it’s helping you,” Hera says. “You’re using what he taught you?”

Kanan shrugs. “To be honest, I never thought I had much aptitude for it, and it focussed on battle scenarios more than… the other stuff. It saved my life on Malachor though, when I went up against Maul. It’s good to know I can still fight. The rest,” he paused, sighed and shook his head. “I guess I’ll have to figure out the rest on my own.”

He climbs to his feet a little unsteadily and takes a moment to orient himself and to locate Ezra within the Force. His Padawan is on his bunk, dark emotions swirling around him like a cloud so thick he can hardly believe he hadn't noticed it before now.

“Not on your own, Kanan,” Hera tells him as he begins to walk away. “We’re here for you, don’t ever forget that.”

He nods, appreciative both of the sentiment and the fact that she doesn’t offer to escort him. He will get through this, he knows that. He, and everyone around him. They are going to be just fine.


End file.
